


The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L

by Boarixonyxexawnis



Series: Wraith in the Ruins [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Blood and Injury, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boarixonyxexawnis/pseuds/Boarixonyxexawnis
Summary: Short fanfics based on the writing prompts created by @theartofblossoming (tumblr). All these little adventures are canon in the Wraith in the Ruins Fallout AU.Action!Adventure!Sillyness!
Series: Wraith in the Ruins [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826956
Kudos: 2





	1. Something Forgotten

**7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.**

  1. **Something Forgotten**



**Starring:** Sole Survivor Wraith, Codsworth and Hancock (Fallout 4)

**Trigger warnings:** mild language, anxiety, suggestive/mature content (Hancock’s impure thoughts (wink wonk))

“Well, I’m not going to burn it down, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“A big bonfire would be fun, but no. That’s not what I meant, sister. There still might be somethin’ of value there.”

“Maybe. I’ll get to it. Eventually.”

Hancock had traveled to Sanctuary to iron out the details of a trade agreement between Wraith’s budding settlement and Goodneighbor. After which, in an effort to spend more time with her, he volunteered to help her with the scraping efforts and was curious why there was one particular house that she seemed to avoid. He was good at reading people so even though he hadn’t known Wraith for very long, her attempts to be nonchalant were like little red flags. 

“I’m not here to tell ya your business…”

Codsworth was working nearby to reclaim nails and screws from an enormous pile of discarded siding. He knew very well that the empty home had been the one he shared with Wraith’s family. The robot had overheard the exchange and decided that with Hancock’s help, they might be able to push Wraith into facing some of her ghosts, thereby achieving some small amount of closure. “Pardon me for interrupting, mum, but we seem to be running short on bedding materials. Might it be that you and Mayor Hancock could check in the ol’ homestead?”

Hancock saw her flinch, confirming his suspicions, “Look, we don’t have to go in there if ya don’t want.” He gestured vaguely east, “I saw a few old rugs in a house over there… might be a little scratchy, but hey, most of ‘em have been sleeping outside in the dirt, you feel me?”

Her pride pricked by the idea that her settlers might be reduced to sleeping on beds that were only marginally better then literal dirt, Wraith stuck out her lower lip and marched determinedly toward her old house. Her paced slowed the closer she got to the front door, however. Finally, she stood motionless with one hand outstretched, frozen midway to the doorknob.

Hancock’s voice was gentle, “It’s okay, sister. I got ya covered.”

She looked back over her shoulder and was further bolstered by the ghoul’s surprisingly-sweet smile. Apart from the brief search on day she had woken up, she hadn’t been inside her house for over two hundred years. Pushing through the door she had expected to be met with the stale air of a long abandon home, but apart from a few dust motes catching light in the sunbeams, it was remarkably well kept.

“Oh, that’s right…” She had forgotten that Codsworth had spent the better part of two hundred plus years maintaining her home, and had continued to do so when he wasn’t floating around the Commonwealth with her. She leaned back out to thank the robot, who was hovering anxiously just outside, “It looks great in here, sweetheart. Thanks, Codsworth.”

“My pleasure, mum! Give a holler if you’ll need anything else.”

Hancock was silent as Wraith walked slowly through her former living room and kitchen. Her movements were halting, almost jerky, and when she reached the hallway that led to the bedrooms she once again froze. Watching her made him sad and he felt an enormous surge of empathy.

Then, as if she had remembered her resolve, he watched as her back straightened and she squared her shoulders. It wasn’t as if she was wearing anything particularly form hugging or risqué; just her standard jeans and flannel with the sleeves rolled up, but Hancock felt his pulse quicken and a flush rose to his cheeks.

_Damn! Can see the steel in her veins from any angle… almost as good a thrill as watchin’ her fight…_

They worked in relative silence for a while, each lost in their own head. Wraith entertaining a few bittersweet memories of a bygone era and Hancock wrestling with a sudden realization that he was very, **very** attracted to her.

_Pretty damn sure it’s one sided. Then again, maybe not; she’s looked you up and down more than a few when she thinks you ain’t lookin’. Could try puttin’ the moves to her… don’t want to rush anything… the way she moves when she’s fightin’ can only imagine how she is in the sack… I need to cool out or go take care of this… those legs wrapped around… mmm. She’s flexible too. Bet I could bend her…_

“Hey, Hancock…”

He jumped guiltily and covered a yelp of surprise with an exaggerated grunt of exertion. “What have ya got for me?”

“Do you mind if we turn on the radio? I’m tired of stewing in memories for now.”

“Fine by me.”

After a few songs The End of the World came on and Hancock started humming along. He felt Wraith’s eyes on him and emboldened, he took her hand and pulled her to him to dance. He sang along to the radio as they circled in a slow, easy waltz and was delighted to see some of the sadness in her eyes melt away.

_Definitely don’t want to rush this. Could be there’s more here than just a wild roll in the hay…_

“Thanks, Hancock.”

“What for?”

“For reminding me that the end of something means the beginning of something else and the end of world doesn’t always mean the end of everything.”


	2. Passing...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passing on an opportunity will always leave us wondering "What Could Have Been?"

**The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L**

  1. **Passing…**



**Starring:** Sole Survivor Wraith and Deacon (post Fallout 4)

**Trigger warnings:** anxiety and panic attack/suggestive content/canon language and tobacco use

“Whisper? Hey, boss, you in there or what?”

West of Sanctuary was a small shed that Wraith found while exploring with Dogmeat. Certain that no one else capable of human speech knew about it, she had gone there to be alone. It had only been two weeks since the destruction of the Institute. For the first week she had held herself together enough to write task lists and delegate responsibilities, but on the eighth day, she bugged out.

“The word on the street is that you’ve gone AWOL. MacCready and all the Minutekids are in panic mode and they’ll probably be sending out search parties soon. It’s a wonder they haven’t hired Valentine yet. And if _I_ can track you down…”

“Please go away, Deacon.”

_How the fuck did he know about this place?! How does he always know?!_

“No can do, boss.”

Wraith could hear him flip his lighter open and soon the acrid smell of cigarette smoke wafted through the cracks in the shed walls. He started humming to himself then transitioned to whistling, which would have been pleasantly melodic if it wasn’t deliberately too loud. After a few minutes he started to jazz it up with some attempts at saxophone and trumpet sounds.

“Enough already! What do you **fucking** want?”

“Oh, am I bothering you? I kinda forgot you were here, Whisper.” He sat down in the grass and leaned back against the building with his arms behind his head, “It is so quiet and peaceful out here!”

“Look, it’s kind of you to come and check on me, but I really need some more time alone…”

“Ooh, there’s a radstag out here!” He took in a deep breath through his nose, “Wow, it is just so great to get back to nature!”

“Deacon! **Fuck off**!”

“Sorry, Deacon’s not fucking anything… hmm that came out weird.” He started flipping his lighter open and snapping it closed. Over and over and over… and over…

“I’m not ready to come back yet.”

“Okay. That’s not why I’m here.”

She made a scoffing sound, “Liar.”

“Indubitably.”

“No need to worry, I’m fine and I’ll be back in the fray before you know it. You can go back and tell Preston…”

“Now who’s a liar? ‘Sides, I’m not your errand boy. You should’ve left a note or radioed in, if you really didn’t want someone to come looking for you.” He let himself sound smug.

“Last chance! **What the fuck do you want**?!”

“This is my vacation cabin. Every couple of weeks I come up here to clear out squatters.”

She threw the door open and got in his face, “If you won’t leave, then **I** …”

His glasses were off and he dropped his head so their faces were less than an inch apart, his pale blue eyes flashing back and forth as he studied her face, “You are not fine, Whisper. How could you be?” He leaned back and replaced his shades, “You’ve been alone for seven days. That’s a stupid move. What if something happened and you died out here. Nobody would know.”

“You would, obviously.”

_Hmm, that comeback sounded way more powerful in my head._

“Like I said: nobody.”

“I don’t need any more guilt than I already have! I just need to be alone!”

“Stop punishing yourself. You hate being alone. You’re a very social person. You like being in a big group of friends and family…”

“ **STOP**!” She brought her hands up and held them over her ears. She started hyperventilating and dark spots distorted her vision.

Deacon guided her back into the shack and eased her down onto the floor. He sat next to her quietly until her breathing normalized. When he spoke his voice was cheerful, “There’s no bathroom in here and I don’t see a pee bucket. How’d you manage that?”

She sat up and put her back to the opposite wall so she could glare at him, “I dug a big hole and put a blue barrel in it. Then, I packed dirt around it and put a toilet seat over the top.”

“How’s the splash-back?”

“You are welcome to try it out. Expect a bill.”

He cocked his head to the side, genuinely confused, “A bill?”

“For installing an outhouse for _your_ cabin.” Wraith couldn’t help but smile when he laughed, but it faded quickly, “You’re right, I don’t like to be alone, but…” She brought her hands up and stared at her palms, “right now I feel like it might be safer.”

Deacon reached out and took one of her hands and gave it a brief squeeze before letting go, “That counts as a hug.”

A flutter passed through her and her breath caught in her throat, which she covered with a laugh, “No it fucking doesn’t! But, thanks.”

_What was that? I wonder if I could…_

Deacon stood and stretched, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your alone time, but I highly recommend you spend it with someone. Maybe go to Goodneighbor.”

“Then it wouldn’t be alone time, would it?”

“Ideally.”

Wraith stood as well and the confined space left them extremely close together, “You could stay.”

His pause was noticeable and despite a herculean effort, regret tinged his voice, “Nope. Too busy, boss. Got important ‘Road stuff to do! Ol’ Stanley asked me to pick up milk on my way home…”

“Oh, right. Well, you shouldn’t keep the good doctor waiting.”

When Deacon turned to open the door, Wraith set her forehead against his back. They stood together in this way for several seconds before the moment passed and Deacon was able to convince himself that opening the door and leaving was what he wanted to do.

Lie. Lie. Lie.


	3. Essential Personnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's turn our attention westward and take a gander at what my Courier 6 Snowflake and Boone have gotten themselves into...

**The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.**

  1. **Essential Personnel**



**Starring:** Courier 6 Snowflake, Craig Boone and Rex (Fallout New Vegas (as part of the Wraith in the Ruins AU))

**Trigger warnings:** canon violence/language/gun use/animal injury/suggestive content

“It’s a shit gun, Snow.”

“It’ll be fine, Bubba.”

“No.” Craig Boone’s headshake was a subtle motion, almost like he was working a kink out of his neck. He held the AMR out toward the courier, “It jams.”

“You mean, ‘it has jammed’.” Snowflake gave the other man his brightest smile, “That rifle has incredible power at long range…”

“I’d do better with mine, closer…”

“Nope, I need you to stay up here. You can see into the quarry, right?”

Snowflake was on a mission to collect the head of an alpha male deathclaw as proof to Chomps Lewis that Quarry Junction was clear as well as a clutch of deathclaw eggs for the ravishing leader of The Thorn, Red Lucy. His optimistic declaration of “two birds with one stone” wasn’t sitting well with his somber companion. Especially once Snowflake had told him the plan.

“The scope is fine. I just don’t think it’s safe for you to have me so far away.”

“Bubba, if shit goes sideways, I’m gonna need room.” He held his large arms out to either side, flexing.

Boone was unimpressed, “Take Rex with you.”

The dog had been intensely sniffing at a crack in the cliffside but trotted over to Boone as soon as he heard his name. The sniper, in turn, absentmindedly shouldered the enormous rifle to reach down to pat his flank.

“Well, I can’t do that. Who’s gonna have your back if we’re both down there?”

Boone pointed over his shoulder, “The mountain.”

Snowflake frowned down at the dog, “I guess so… you wanna come with daddy and go chase some lizards?” While the dog pranced about, barking enthusiastically, the courier did a last check on his equipment.

When he saw that the courier picked up his Blade of the West, (dubbed Butter Knife) Boone frowned critically, “You’re not taking that thing with you, are you?”

“Craig Daniel Boone, please stop nagging me!” He turned away to begin his careful decent from the cliff.

“My middle name isn’t Daniel…”

“It was a joke, Bubba.”

“No. Jokes are funny.”

The plan was simple: using Stealth Boys, the courier would sneak past and count the resident deathclaws while locating the clutch of eggs. Along the way he would deploy frag mines, and then find his own perch to snipe from. They would each take one or two strategic shots to stir the reptiles up, and then eliminate the threat in relative safety. Or as Snowflake had put it, “It’ll be easy! Like shootin’ fish in a barrel.”

After politely telling the dog to stay, Snowflake activated a Stealth-Boy and crept along the narrow canyon and down into the quarry floor. He caught a whiff of deathclaw scat and followed his nose around a particularly large conveyer/excavator, laying mines as he went. Despite his earlier bravado he was still momentarily frozen when he turned a corner and came face to face with sleeping juvenile. He sucked in his breath as the beast grunted and shifted in its sleep. Satisfied that it was going to carry on in dreamland, he peered around its haunch and saw that its brethren were all in a similar repose.

Apparently, it was dragon nap time. 

Finally locating the eggs, he removed his shoulder bag and carefully packed them away. As he turned to head back to the excavator he was hit with a waft of the cloying smell of death and rot. The odor was sufficient warning and he dodged to his left as an enormous, sickle-shaped claw slashed through the air; missing him by a hair’s breadth. Abandoning stealth in favor of speed he sprinted toward the conveyor in the hopes that the beast wouldn’t be able to climb up the boom after him. The deathclaw reared back and bellowed, rousing its pack to war.

Shit may have been heading in an adjacent direction.

Not only was the deathclaw able to climb the conveyor belt, it was doing so much faster than Snowflake was. Dodging on the narrow platform while the creature took swipes at him took all of his coordination and he was too hard-pressed to get off a rifle shot. At a certain point he ended up hanging underneath while it tried in vain to poke its claws through the gap between the belt and the steel frame. Glancing down, he could see a rather large gathering of the lizards forming underneath him.

“Well, doesn’t that just rot yer socks…?” 

Boone sat waiting for the signal shot. Switching between the gun scope and his binoculars he was muttering to himself in frustration, “Too damn long. Can’t see anybody. Where are you?” It never occurred to him to change position. After all, the courier told him to ‘stay’.

Snowflake watched in frustration as the quarry’s full complement of deathclaws (save for his conveyer belt companion) avoided his mines and settled themselves beneath him, waiting for his arm strength to give out. He briefly considered whistling for Rex, but dismissed it just as quickly. Sure, the dog might have provided a useful distraction, but he might also be hurt and the courier would rather die than let that happen. Desperate times called for desperate measures, “Well, now that I have all y’alls attention, won’t you please consider this?” Letting go with one hand, he grabbed a frag grenade from his belt, pulled the pin with his teeth and dropped it.

Several of them leaped out of the way which triggered the mines which in turn triggered the vehicles and other machinery. Soon the entire quarry floor was flashing and shaking as one explosion after another rocked the very earth.

“Ooopsfuckingshit!”

Boone was confused by the sudden light show. This wasn’t the signal that he and the courier had discussed. The percussive blasts reaching his ears snapped him back to his task and he looked through the AMR’s scope for his first target. The clouds of dust and debris made this nearly impossible and when he finally found a deathclaw to aim for, the gun jammed. Looking down at the useless rifle and then at the hellfire of the quarry, the sniper decided that, regardless of orders, Snowflake needed him.

Throwing the gun to the ground, he half ran, half slid, down the side of the ridge. The sharp rocks rolled up the sleeve of his uniform jacket and cut his arm in the process. Ignoring the wound, he drew his combat knife and sprinted as fast as he could toward were he judged the first explosion came from.

What he saw he couldn’t fully comprehend.

There was what appeared to be a glowing one fighting the few surviving deathclaws. Leaping, spinning and dodging, it was wielding Butter Knife in an expert display of swordsmanship. Slicing at the tendons in wrist, knee and ankle, they brought down several of the beasts, rendering them helpless. Then, to Boone’s further astonishment, they brandished Snowflake’s revolver, sending shot after shot into the open mouths and eyes of the creatures.

When the alpha charged the glowing warrior, they sent out an enormous blast of radiation causing the beast to stager and rear back from the heat. Then, taking advantage of the deathclaw’s exposed throat, they made several slices in rapid succession, the last swing causing the head to come free and fly in Boone’s direction. When the sniper stepped out of the way, the glowing one saw the movement from their peripheral and raised the magnum as if to shoot.

Sudden recognition froze Boone in his tracks as he stared into the unmistakable eyes of his friend. Rather than make an attempt to evade, he threw his arms out wide and flexed his chest toward Snowflake; as if asking him to shoot.

“ _Boone_?!” Lowering the now melting revolver, the glowing courier slammed the remains of Butter Knife into the ashen quarry floor and leaned heavily against it, “ _What the **fuck**_!”

“What do you mean ‘what that fuck’? **WHAT THE FUCK TO YOU**?!” Suddenly angry, the sniper yelled back at his friend, “ **ARE YOU** … **what** … How are you doing that!?”

“ _Never mind this, did you just… what were you… **do you know what it would do to me if I accidentally shot you**_?!”

“I just thought… that if it was you… I’d be okay with it being you.” Boone was so confused and mentally turned around; he didn’t know what to do or where to look and he stood awkwardly with blood dripping from his fingers.

“ _I need your help! I can’t do this without you! And that’s… that is **not** how I want to show my love for you, Boone.” _

“You… love me?”

The halo of light around Snowflake had begun to diminish. It was becoming clear that all of his clothes, hair and a good portion of his skin had burned away. Exhausted, he dropped to his knees and would have fallen over, had Boone not rushed to catch him.

The sniper took off his jacket and tucked the other man into it, “What are you talking about?!”

Snowflake smiled up at him and when he spoke, his voice, although ragged, was closer to normal, “You’re my best friend; of course I love ya. You’re my brother, Boone.”

“Oh.” The sniper gave the courier a brief squeeze and looked around at the carnage, “This got messy. Where’s Rex?”

“You wrap up your arm, take some Rad-X and go look for him. I need to just… I have to lay here a minnit.”

After about an hour, Boone returned carrying both the dog (who despite having lost both of his rear cyber limbs, seemed to be pain-free and happy) and miraculously, Snowflake’s pack.

“I’m sorry super pup! Don’t worry; I know Raul can fix you up.” Snowflake was in a fetal position, trying to fit as much of himself as possible into Boone’s coat and his voice was muffled, “Ha ha, that rhymed!”

“Are you… going to be okay?”

“Sure. This isn’t the first time this has happened, you know? Although… I’m always afraid my hair won’t grow back. Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone? People wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t understand.”

Boone went back up the cliff to retrieve the rest of their equipment (including spare clothes for Snowflake) and then the trio spent the night huddled together. In the morning, Snowflake’s condition had much improved and had even begun to grow back skin.

“Is that where your nickname come from? Why you wear gloves? From the scars?”

“Yes and no.” The courier was surprised and a little excited that Boone would ask him such personal questions, “I wasn’t nuclear for very long yesterday and these burns are… different. It’ll take a little bit but I should regrow most of what skin I lost yesterday. No, these…” he held out his hands and gestured to his face, “are from when I was a kid and my family’s wagon hit a land mine. I wasn’t in it; was riding our big horner, Ladd, alongside. The shrapnel cut me up real bad and I burned my hands trying to pull my brother from the wreck. Other families in our caravan took pity on me and would share their food, but their kids started calling me ‘Snowflake’ on account of all my little white scars.” His smile was forced, “No two alike!”

Boone was quiet for a moment as he studied the courier’s face. When he spoke his voice was soft, “Kids can be mean. Why did you keep the nickname?”

“Well, I figured I’d steal some of their fun by ownin’ it. Sides, ‘a snowflake in the desert’ sounds romantic, right? Who doesn’t root for the underdog?”

“Right.”

“Speakin’ of dogs; which would you prefer?” He gestured to Rex and then the severed head of the alpha deathclaw, “Doggy style or head?”

Boone rolled his eyes as he gathered the dog into his arms, “I’ll carry Rex, thanks.”

“Oh, c’mon, Bubba, that was a joke!”

“No. Jokes are funny.”

  
  



	4. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's skip on down to the Capital Wasteland and check in with Deacon's alter alter ego Harley, Charon and my lone wanderer Nyx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strongly recommend having read at least through chapter 13 (Let Me Go) of Wraith in the Ruins; for context

**The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.**

  1. **Coming Home**



**Starring:** Lone Wanderer Nyx Morningstar, Charon and Deacon (as Harley) (post Fallout 4 as part of the Wraith in the Ruins AU)

**Trigger warnings:** anxiety

“Please stay and help Harley.”

He had felt his insides clench, “You need me.” Not especially articulate, the ghoul had meant it to be a question.

_Don’t you want me with you?_

They had hardly been apart for the last ten years; since she had taken over and then destroyed his contract. In the absence of it being a physical place, Nyx’s presence was the closest thing Charon had to a home.

“He needs you more than I do.” Then, having the ability to read his seemingly inscrutable face, she felt it prudent to clarify, “For this. I’ll be back when I know the MacCreadys are safe in Boston. Will you be here when I come home?”

_But, you are my home. When you go, you’ll take it with you._

“I’ll help Harley. I’ll stay.”

Her smile was warm like a ray of sun, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

It had been weeks. The Railroad had kept him busy: moving headquarters to Tenpenny Tower and setting up new safe houses was dangerous and secretive work.

“Do you have to stand there like that?” Deacon was attempting to mount an enormous map of the Capital Wasteland onto a dining table in the headquarters central hub. The edges kept rolling up and he had been fussing over it for several minutes. Charon had stood next to the door, silently un-moving for the entire time. 

“How should I stand?”

“If I didn’t know better I’d swear you just made a joke.”

“You should know better.”

Deacon laughed, waved him over, and then laughed again when the ghoul hesitated, “I think it’s safe for you to leave your post for long enough to come hold this edge down.”

Two people made short work of the project and they both stood back to admire their collective handy work.

Charon frowned, his great height affording him a better view of the finished map, “It’s wrong.”

“What do you mean it’s wrong?”

“It’s backward. No that’s not right… it’s like a mirror image.”

“That’s… I can read the words… it can’t be…”

Charon was smug, “Well, it is be.”

Huffing and mumbling obscenities, Deacon noisily dragged a chair over to the table and stood on the seat. He stared in shocked silence for a couple of seconds before putting his face in his hands. When he spoke his voice was muffled, “It must have been a misprint… why oh why did they keep it?”

“Where’d you get it?”

His voice was filled with sorrow, “Tulip gave it to me. She found it in a museum storeroom. Uhgg!”

Nyx knocked once on the door before she opened it. She blinked in confusion for a second then smiled at Charon. When the ghoul started toward her then stopped, she held out her arms, “Do you want a hug? You don’t ever have to ask me, you know?”

The ghoul gave her a brief squeeze, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Do I have to ask for a hug?” Deacon was still standing on the chair.

She laughed, “ _I_ have to ask what you’re doing.”

He held a hand up to his brow as if shielding his eyes from the sun and frowned down at the map, “Oh, I’m just… looking for my dignity…”

Nyx laughed again, “This is why I can’t ever leave; I don’t know what I’ll be coming home to!”


	5. Idiosyncratic Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wraith shows her love for others in a very cat-like way...

**The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.**

  1. **Idiosyncratic Intimacy**



**Starring:** Sole Survivor Wraith, Piper Wright, Cait, Nick Valentine, Preston Garvey and R.J. MacCready (post Fallout 4)

**Trigger warnings:** canon alcohol use/drunkenness

“Blue clunkshes your face!” Piper was well and truly drunk.

The Harvest Festival/MacCready birthday celebration was in full swing and a small group of Wraith’s friends had gathered at the central picnic area to drink and gossip. And since she was out of earshot dancing with Hancock, the topic had turned to one of the general’s more unique mannerisms.

“Yeah, I’ve been on the receiving end meself.” Cait slid onto the picnic table bench next to her, “What ‘bout it?”

Nick Valentine smiled at the two women, “She’s not one for saying ‘I love you’ right out. At least, not unless she thinks she’s about to lose you.”

“The first time she did it to me was right after we took Quincy back.” Preston suddenly felt embarrassed and took an exceptionally long swig of beer.

“I fell inna hole!” Piper cleared her throat and tried again, “Whew! I’m switching to cola… and Sugar Boobs… BOMBS! Anyway, we were looking for Grandpa Savoldi’s hat around Old Gullet _stinkhole_ ,” she giggled at her own joke, “and part of the embarnk… endernkment… the side, gave way.” She paused to take a sip of the Nuka Cherry that Cait handed her.

Regardless of the fact that she was obviously still alive and that she was slurring the words, the companions hung on her every word and leaned in to hear the saga of Piper and the Hole.

“So my ankle went out and I went ‘Ooof’ and a deathclaw was there! Blue came sliding in and grabbed me and we went ‘slurop’,” She made a dipping wave motion with her hand, “further in!” She went on to tell how Wraith had carried her past radroaches, feral ghouls and a pack of mongrels to safety while still retrieving the late Minuteman’s hat.

Preston’s face held the sort of rapt attention that school-age children have while listening to a firefighter telling stories, “Then what?!”

“Well, we were safe for a minute and I noticed that Wraith had a cut on her cheek,” Piper’s smile was tender, “I was trying to clean it for her but she was fussing at me about my silly foot and our heads were close together and then she just… ‘boop’.” She held out her two fists and brought them together gently, “It was so… nice!”

MacCready was quiet. Wraith had neither clunked foreheads with him or told him that she loved him and up until five minutes ago, didn’t even know about that particular quirk. He had finished his beer and was now playing with the cap: sending it flipping back and forth across his knuckles rapidly.

“Here, Mac. I brought you more booooooze!” Wraith, a little tipsy herself, plopped down next to the sulking sniper leaned over, pulled off his hat and gently clunked their foreheads together. “Happy birthday!”

MacCready’s smile nearly took in his ears.


	6. Authentic or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready and Wraith find a possible treat while in a vault

**7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.**

  1. **Authentic or Nothing**



**Starring:** Sole Survivor Wraith and R.J. MacCready (Fallout 4)

“Hey, Mac, come ‘ere and look at this.” Wraith was waving a package of gum drops back and forth like she was conducting an orchestra, “What do you think?”

“Candy’s bad for your teeth.” He winked at her, “And I should know.”

“Yeahbut, do you think it’s okay? I mean, they’re not going to be poisonous, right?”

MacCready didn’t want to disappoint her, but he didn’t want her to get hurt either, “It’s probably not a great idea.” He felt bad when he saw her shoulders slump.

“They’re banana flavored though…”

He held up his hands about a foot apart, “They are the long yellow ones, right?”

“Such a man.” She smiled at him then pushed his hands a little closer together. “Yeah they’re my favorite. Oh, right. _Were_ my favorite.”

“There’s plenty of opportunity for rads out here; it’s always better to play it safe when it comes to food. Besides, we have fruit leather with us, right? I bet that tastes a million times better than that old candy anyway.”

She frowned at him, but set the candy back on the dresser where she found it. She poked it with a finger so it was parallel to the edge and sighed like a disappointed child.

“Then again, we are in a vault…”

Smiling wildly, she tore into the packaging, “You wanna get in on this?”

He rolled his eyes, but still held out his hand for one. Then on the count of three, they popped the sticky, yellow globs into their mouths.

“OH! **OH NO**! **OW**?!”

MacCready’s face screwed up as if he was in pain, “I’m gonna puke, Wraith! Can I spit this out?!”

“God yes! Note to self, nothing beats the real thing!” 


	7. Last Orders at the Dugout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wraith is a very tired and hungry Sole. It's a good thing she has someone like Dogmeat to look after her!

**The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.**

  1. **Last Orders at the Dugout**



**Starring:** Sole Survivor Wraith, Dogmeat and the brothers Bobrov (Fallout 4)

“We need a room.” Wraith and Dogmeat were absolutely filthy: covered head to toe in that cement-like mixture of mud and worse, common to adventures. Obviously tired, she sagged into a seat and laid her head down on the table, “And food, please.”

“You look like you might be needing a bath most of all.” Yefim crinkled his nose and frowned down at the footprints they were leaving across his floor.

Vadim shook a finger at his brother “Ah, Yefim, you are too harsh! Welcome, Minutemen’s General,” He held his arms out expansively, “what can I get for you and your four-legged friend?”

Wraith’s voice was muffled as she spoke to the tabletop, “Dogmeat, you order. I’m too tired.”

Scarlett had already left for the evening and so the German shepherd sauntered up to the bar, and placing his front paws on the counter, proceeded to place their order, “Grroww uf. Yaff grrrfff. Yuff grrr yip yip!”

The big Russian nodded sagely, “Ah, I see. Now, will you be wanting those rare?” He gave a short, barking laugh, “What am I even asking for? Of course they should be rare!”

“Bark, ufff grruf!”

After about ten minutes, Vadim brought out two plates; each with a perfectly “cooked” brahmin steak and mountains of mashed tatos and carrots, “Your order, tovarisch.”

Wraith was asleep: her arms limp to either side of her and a small pool of drool was forming on the tabletop from her open mouth. She was snoring as well. All of which, the bartender politely ignored.

Dogmeat was torn between letting her sleep and making sure she was fed. He sat for a moment, cocking his head this way and that, before making a decision. Letting out a low whine he placed his cool nose into her palm.

She snorted, sat up like a Jack-in-a box and looked around, confused, “Where is this?!” After blinking furiously she shook her head, and smiled down at the dog, “What would I ever do without you, buddy?” She got up and pulled another chair closer to her table so he could sit and eat with her.

Vadim thought this was hilarious; his bombastic laughter echoing throughout the bar. His brother was less approving and after making several loud unhappy noises, announced he was going to bed and that Wraith could just “take whatever room you want and pay me in the morning”.

The bar was empty save for the three of them and after she had eaten, Wraith offered to help clean up. They made short work of any mess and then Vadim offered her a drink “on the house”. The two humans sat quietly sipping moonshine in the empty bar until Wraith hefted the dog up on her lap and nuzzled him affectionately.

“Ahh to be friends with a wolf. Ha! This reminds me of Russian folklore. Have you ever heard ‘Tsarevitch Ivan, the Firebird and the Gray Wolf’?” 

Though tired and worn, Wraith smiled her encouragement and nursing her drink, listened to her friend spin tails of his ancestral homeland until the wee hours of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
